The Taste of Freedom
by bethanyyerinn
Summary: Megstiel. After Crowley stabs Meg at the end of 8.17, Castiel finds her, dying but not quite dead, and decides to nurse her back to health. M because of light smut.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**I started shipping Megstiel hard in 8.17 and when Dean actually called them Megstiel, it became canon in my book, so I've been wanting to write one since the episode ended. Here's what happened.**

**Rated M for sexyness. **

* * *

Castiel didn't know why he came back. He waited a while, enough time that everyone would be gone. No Dean, no Sam, no Crowley. He had to keep the tablet safe from everyone. That was his duty. But still… he felt compelled to go back. So he went back to the crypt. There were bodies on the ground, and he knew that one of them was hers. He approached slowly, holding his breath even though he didn't technically have to breathe at all, and leaned down in front of her. Her shirt was soaked with blood and there was obviously a wound in her chest.

He nodded, as if he had finally accepted that he was never going to be able to keep any of the things that mattered to him. He always would fail. It was his eternal fate.

That was when he heard the feeble coughing and his eyes flashed back down to her. Her eyes were just barely open, looking up at him with a small smile on her blood-crusted lips.

"Meg," he said.

"You came back for me."

"You're alive," he replied, holding her head up in his lap.

"Just barely," she confirmed.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

She pursed her lips a little in something like exasperation. "Just peachy," she responded.

"Well, I don't know what it's like to be a peach, but in this case, it must not be very pleasant."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "So, unicorn, are you here to be my savior?"

"Unicorn?"

She blinked, looking a little confused—almost like she had called him that on accident.

"Never mind, angel-cheeks," she said, her composure back as quickly as it had gone. "Unless you want me to bleed out on the pavement, maybe we should go somewhere."

"I don't want you to bleed out," he established.

"Glad to hear it," she said. He put his hand on her face and she had half a moment to be shocked before they were transported somewhere else.

She was on a bed and Castiel was standing over her. She smiled up at him in a way that he had eventually come to recognize. The pizza man had helped, of course. "There's enough room on this bed for two," she told him.

He looked down at her, speechless for a moment. Then he had the sense to speak. "Meg, you're dying. Now isn't the time."

"If I'm gonna die, I wanna go down in style," she said, grabbing for his tie. He swallowed hard.

"I'm not letting you die," he said. "I'm going to take care of you."

Her eyes narrowed a little and, to Castiel's relief, she let go of his tie. "Why? Why go to the trouble?"

He perched on the edge of the bed and looked into her face, the face that she could see for what it truly was. The true form of a demon used to bother him, but not anymore. "It seems I am the only one that remembers," he said, "but when I was, as you called it, 'crazy town', you were the one to take care of me. Not even Dean was there for me. So part of it is that I owe you."

She nodded. "And what's the other part?" she added.

He didn't reply as he started to clean the wound.

* * *

As Meg was a demon, her wound started to heal fairly quickly. A week later, she was still too weak to go out on her own, but she was up and walking around. He helped as much as he could with the process and by this time, he knew she would live.

"So Clarence—"

"My name isn't Clarence."

She ignored his interjection. "—you're hiding from everyone to keep the tablet safe. Or I'm guessing. But you're all cooped up in here with me. Aren't you bored?"

He glanced over to her, sitting up on the bed with that suggestive smile playing on her lips.

"Is there a reason you want to… to have pizza with me so badly?" he asked nervously. "Or do you just… just really like pizza?"

She smiled at his attempt to avoid the actual subject. "It's you specifically," she supplied.

"Well then why are _you_ 'sweet on _me'_, Clarence?"

"The Clarence reference doesn't work on me."

"Will you answer the question?" he asked exasperatedly.

She looked at him thoughtfully, her permanent smirk still in place. "Maybe you make me feel all squeaky clean inside," she suggested.

"I'm being serious," he responded.

Her smile widened. "Maybe I am too." He stood and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her imploringly. She finally rolled her eyes. "I don't know, maybe my time being your nurse made me all soft," she said. "And most angels look at me like I'm scum. But you don't. So maybe you intrigue me."

He didn't know what to say, so he continued to look at her. Then she shifted, scooting closer to Castiel, so she was sitting beside him with her legs still on the bed. He looked straight ahead when she moved out of nervousness.

"And you're hot," she added, her lips close enough to him that her breath tickled his ear. He took a shaky breath and glanced down at his lap.

"I don't think I've ever been called hot before," he informed her.

"You said you knew how to make a girl's nethers quiver," she said to him, her lips closer to his ear than before. "Why don't you show me?" she whispered.

Castiel couldn't really explain what he felt when she said that. He'd never before felt something so raw, so consuming. He had horrible, wonderful pictures reeling in his head, things that the pizza man would have done.

Desire, he decided. That's what this is. Even when Dean took him to a brothel once, he hadn't felt this, and the women there were almost naked. He remembered fondly the time that he had kissed her before and the need burned hotter. He looked down at his lap again and this time she noticed with a chuckle.

"What's stopping you?" she murmured into his ear. "I can see that you want to."

What _was_ stopping him? Thousands of years of virginity? Maybe. The pictures were still in his head and the breath was tingling against his cheek and his member was calling more attention to itself every second and, so suddenly that it even surprised him, he whipped his face around and grabbed hers, kissing her fiercely. The moment their lips met, a guttural growl sounded deep in his throat, like an animal Castiel never knew he had was being unleashed in his soul. He separated from her for a moment and she looked stunned and delighted at the same time. A fire burning in every inch of his body, the same fire he could see there in her eyes. There was only one way to quench it. And that was her.

* * *

Castiel was partially in shock, but also feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Meg actually looked just about the same. Neither of them had bothered to put their clothes back on yet. They both were still breathing shakily.

"You were right," she told him.

He almost smiled and turned on his side, resting his head on his propped up hand. She did the same. "About the nethers?" he asked.

She grinned. "Yeah, that, stupid."

"Angels are good at a lot of things."

"I can imagine," she said, her eyebrow and lip twitching up in amusement. "So what happens when I'm better?" she asked.

He continued to look at her. "I don't know," he said.

"Are you going to leave so you can protect that tablet of yours?"

He glanced between her and the bed, considering. After that, he hardly felt he could leave her.

"Hey, you don't have to feel bad or anything," she said, as if she knew what he was thinking. "You've got a job to do. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she reminded him.

"You're still weak," he said. "We don't have to think about this now."

"But you must have a plan one way or another. Angels seem like the planning ahead types."

He sighed. "Actually, I really don't know," he told her honestly.

"Well what do you want?" she asked. She made it sound so simple.

"It's not about what I—"

"Yes it is," she interceded. "That's what it comes down to. You rebelled against daddy so you could have free will. Don't throw it away now that you have it."

He blinked a few times. "I don't know what I want," he finally said.

She reached forward, letting her fingers graze down his face, then his neck and past his chest, resting on his abdomen for a moment. His breath caught in his throat.

"You don't?" she asked.

He swallowed, and for once, there wasn't any thought. He pounced so he was on top of her.

"I love how dominant you are," she purred.

Instead of replying, he found her mouth with his. It was funny how, even though he'd rebelled a long time ago, he'd never felt free before. Not until now. Sure, he had to protect the tablet… but he could do that with her there. At that moment, he honestly didn't even care, and that was actually pretty liberating. He just felt every inch of her and, after a while, actually smiled against her lips.

She noticed and looked at him questioningly. "What's got you all happy, Clarence?"

He nipped at her lip. "Oh, nothing."

"Was that almost a joke?" she asked.

"Yes, actually, I think it might have been."

She grinned. "Bad Cas just gets hotter and hotter."

And their lips met again.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. If you liked it, or hated it, or felt utterly indifferent about it, let me know in a review. If you do review, I will grant you one wish. I swear, I will. **


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